


hailstorms and nightmares

by cazei



Series: Boring Without You [6]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Protective Spot, Race needs a hug okay, ya boy race is sleeping in brooklyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazei/pseuds/cazei
Summary: Race sighs and does what any rational, mature sixteen-year-old who doesn’t have parents, works all day to survive, and lives in a board house would do. He angrily kicks a pebble and grumbles to himself about timing and luck and how he almost stayed in Manhattan today but fucking Spot Conlon.-Race stays overnight at Brooklyn because of a bad storm, has a nightmare, and sees a different side of Spot Conlon.





	1. hailstorms

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!

— 

 

No one, really, anticipated the storm. It came as a surprise and took everyone by storm, which is ironic in itself. 

 

Jack and the Manhattan newsies barely had enough time to get to the Lodge before the sprinkling turned to rain and hail. It struck hard and showed no time of stopping. No one wanted to be stuck outside. In a world like theirs, if they didn’t get injured by the _ice falling from the fucking sky_ they would most likely get sick and not make money, _and then they can’t pay rent, and then they’re on the street and they’ll stay sick and probably die—_

 

Point is, Newsies can’t get sick. 

 

It just…It isn’t good. 

 

And everyone’s favorite Italian, Racetrack Higgins, was on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. 

 

He briefly considers trying to walk across the bridge, but then he stands under an awning and watches as the bridge sways and he decides against it.

 

Race sighs and does what any rational, mature sixteen-year-old who doesn’t have parents, works all day to survive, and lives in a boarding house would do. He angrily kicks a pebble and grumbles to himself about timing and luck and how he _almost_ stayed in Manhattan today but _fucking Spot Conlon_. 

 

Yeah, ha, ha. Fucking Spot Conlon. That didn’t use to be ironic. 

 

Race considers asking Spot if he can stay in the boarding house in Brooklyn, but it may be weird. Things have definitely changed between them, and Spot might take it the wrong way. 

 

Not that Race hates the change or anything. Not at all. He, uh, isn’t opposed to Spot’s lips on his _and_ _hands on his hips and Spot’s_ — Yeah, well, you get the point. He likes Spot, okay? Before and after their…Revelation. 

 

He likes Spot, and he doesn’t want to mess things up by making a request that would seem like more. 

 

So, Race sighs and sets out into the storm. He doesn’t cross the bridge, he’s not insane. He doesn’t go inside any buildings, though. He can’t risk getting soaked or attacked by Brooklyn newsies who think he’s advancing on their turf. 

 

He wonders into an alley, belatedly realizing that he’s subconsciously ended up on the same street as the Brooklyn Newsies Lodge.

 

Shaking his head, he turns and heads the opposite way.

 

Anthony’s feet are cold, and his hands are cold, and he is cold. Everything is wet — don’t be a perv — and he really, really wants to hate Spot right now, even if it wasn’t his fault, not really, that Race went to Brooklyn today. 

 

Race must be losing his mind; any chance to blame Spot for something, he’ll take. _Apparently not_. 

 

Just as he’s about to turn out of sight of the Lodge, a voice yells his name. 

 

"Race!" Blue yells again. "Is that you, Higgins?"

 

Race turns to see the Brooklyn newsies blinking at him through the rain. 

 

"Blue? What’re you doin’ out here? Go inside," Race argues. 

 

"Was lookin’ for you. Spot n’ Sling wanted to make sure you didn’t try to go across the bridge. C’mon, let's go to the lodge," Blue argues. 

 

Race scoffs. "Yeah, a Manhattan in the Brooklyn Lodge? Sounds like a party."

 

"You’re not Manhattan," Blue says. 

 

"I’m not Brooklyn either," Race argues back, but he starts to walk towards Blue anyhow. 

 

"Glad you came to your senses," Blue laughs when Race reaches him, and they both begin to head to the Lodge. 

 

Race rolls his eyes. "I’d be fine."

 

Blue simply laughs and holds the door open for Race, and the two of them step over the threshold. 

 

Once Race feels the warmth of people and a fire and no rain or _sky ice_ falling on him, he exhales. Isn’t it funny how you can forget how things usually are as soon as they get bad?

 

Sling is at their sides as soon as they can see through their now-dried eyes. 

 

"Where the hell were you?" Sling asks Blue, who sighs.

 

"Calm down," Blue mutters. "I was lookin' for Race. Spot asked me to."

 

Sling doesn’t accept this answer. "Did Spot ask you to get pneumonia as well?"

 

"Sling—" Blue tries to interrupt. 

 

"Honestly, loyalty is one thing, _suicide is another!_ " Sling continues. 

 

" _Louis_ ," Blue says, and Sling stops. "Calm down. We’re fine, okay? No ones getting sick. Ey, Ley?" Blue calls to another Newsie who’s hovering in the hallway. "Grab us a few towels from the washroom? Thanks, kid."

 

Sling exhales. "I’m not happy about it, Harvey."

 

"Just don’t bring it up with Spot and we don’t have an issue," Blue says, rolling his eyes. 

 

Race laughs, catching their attention. "I know your names now."

 

"Shut up, Anthony," Blue says. 

 

At Race’s horrified look, Sling adds, "Spot isn’t a quiet talker, I’ll let you know."

 

Ley returns with the towels and hands them to Blue, who passes a couple to Race. Sling makes sure they both wrap themselves before leaning into the bunk room. 

 

"Ey, someone grab Spot for me!" Sling says, and a commotion is heard from the larger room. Satisfied, Sling adds to himself, "Yeah, he’ll be here in a second."

 

Sure enough, a moment later Spot is in the doorway. He looks annoyed for a split second. Then, he sees two soaking wet Newsies and frowns. 

 

"Go playin’ in the rain, ey, Blue?" Spot asks, and Sling scoffs. Before Sling can interject, Blue nudges him and he stays quiet. 

 

"Yeah, sure," Blue says. "Thing is, the rain is now hail, and Racey is not going to be able to make it over the bridge. I figured you’d want him here."

 

Spot looks exasperated. "Could you _be_ any blunter," He hisses. 

 

Race sighs. "No one else is here. Everyone cool it."

 

Shaking his head, Spot says, "Fine, I’ll take Race. Both of you are in charge of making sure everyone else is asleep within an hour. Ha, good luck."

 

Spot gestures towards the room with his head, motioning for Race to follow him. Halfway out of the door, Spot pauses. 

 

"Oh, and, Blue? I’d consider drying off a bit. You might get chilly."

 

Race hardly sees Blue flip Spot off because Spot is already disappearing into the chaos of the Brooklyn Lodge, and he can’t take his eyes off of him or else he’ll probably get lost and die. Probably. 

 

Eventually, though, he catches up to Spot just before the older newsie disappears into his room. 

 

Race follows him in after a moment of hesitation. 

 

Spot’s sitting on the edge of his bed, taking off his boots then Race turns around and shuts the door. 

 

They stare at each other, and Race is suddenly reminded of all the memories from this particular room. 

 

The hands in his hair and the voice in his ear begging him not to leave, to stay forever. 

 

Nothing lasts, though. Not even the things we wish for most. 

 

Race exhales and breaks from his frozen form. 

 

“So, I’ll crash on the floor?” Race suggests, already taking off his outer layer to make a pillow. 

 

There’s a sigh, and Race looks to see Spot shaking his head. 

 

“As if, Higgins. You’s the guest; the guest gets the bed.”

 

Race ignores him and settles on the floor. 

 

“Not takin’ your bed,” Race says. Spot moves towards the floor with a sigh and Race stops him. “And you layin’ on the ground ain’t gonna make me change my mind. Ya might as well just lay there now.”

 

Spot seemingly ignores him and continues to settle on the ground, and Race knows better than to argue with Spot when he’s tired. 

 

Race lies on his back as Spot blows out the camera. The room is washed with darkness, and Race is hyper-aware of the sound of fabric swishing and movement as Spot settles back onto the floor. An arm reaches out and tosses a pillow which lands on Race’s head. 

 

“Thanks,” Race says dryly. 

 

Spot mumbles, half-asleep, “Anytime.”

 

—

 


	2. nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race has a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god enjoy

Two boys lay on the ground, silent. 

 

It’s late, the middle of the night, and everything is silent. The rest of the boarding house is drunk with sleep and fatigue, so there is no noise from them. 

 

Two boys lay on the ground, apart from the rest, silent. 

 

—

 

Race is aware of thoughts slowly breaching the calmness of sleep. Thoughts are forming despite him being unconscious, and this is what is known to most as a dream. 

 

This is no ordinary dream. 

 

He thinks of his parents. The yelling, the screaming. The bruises he got when trying to stop it. 

 

He thinks of his little sisters, his family. He remembers how happy they used to be, despite it all. 

 

His dream twists from flashes and fragments to solid memories. 

 

He remembers when he left home. 

 

The dream is darker. In his dream — nightmare — the sky is gray and so is the tone. He’s fighting, arguing with his parents. He will go to hell and greet the devil with a smile before he lets his little sisters work in a factory. 

 

His father disagrees. 

 

His father pauses him aside, a ten year old is easily moved. A ten-year-old has not had time to plant his roots in the ground. 

 

They start to argue, and his mother and sisters shut themselves in the bathroom of their one-room apartment. 

 

When he gets the third bruise Race slams the door and takes to the streets, promising not to return. 

 

When he does inevitably return, there is no one to return to. In his absence, a fire was lit, and it was not put out. 

 

Morbidly, Race remembers thinking that at least his sisters weren’t in a factory. 

 

This is what happened in his dream, under a gray in dreary sky. 

 

In reality it was blue and shining and indifferent. 

 

After this, the dreams shift. First, it’s Jack and Crutchie and Boots, and they’re in the fire. Then it’s Medda and Kloppman and every adult who hasn’t wronged him. Every time it restarts with new people, but he is never in the flames. 

 

He wakes to reality with a start, but he can still smell smoke.

 

—

 

Spot is awoken and his first thought is, ‘ _Who am I going to have to soak this time?_ ’

 

Then, he opens his eyes and sees Race tossing and turning in the faint light of the room. Grunting, he sits up and takes in the scene. 

 

He’s not an idiot, he knows what’s happening. This is a nightmare at it’s finest, a panic attack. The part he’s unsure on is how to handle it.

 

When Race wakes with a gasp, Spot’s stomach sinks. 

 

“Race?” He mutters. “Race, are you okay?”

 

Race’s hands go to his eyes; he doesn’t respond. 

 

“Racetrack?” Spot asks. “Anthony?”

 

A shuddering breath is released, and Race begins to sob into his hands. 

 

Spot sits up and blinks. 

 

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

 

Race doesn’t respond. 

 

“T-Race, what do I do? How can I help?” Spot asks again. 

 

“I- It’s nothing, Spot. I-I just had a. A nightmare,” Race says after a pause. 

 

Spot hates how useless he feels. 

 

“Do- Do you want to talk about it?” Spot says, feeling small. 

 

“I mean, no. Not really,” Race says. 

 

Spot puts his arm around the younger, letting Race cry onto his shoulder. 

 

“I”m here, Race. For as long as you need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think i've hated anything i've ever written more than i hate this oh m ygod why am i posting this bye

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated!!!!


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